But it's a sin
by cynicismandrainbows
Summary: Patsy and Delia are outed...
1. Chapter 1

'It was so pleasant having Mr Hereward to lunch last week- his work in the Women's prison is quite inspirational. Have you any plans to invite him back?'

Trixie smiled and busied herself refolding the tea towel. She wondered whether Tom was aware of the high regard that the young nun- who had barely spoken two sentences to him so far- held him in.

'I'm sure he'll be inviting himself over before much long- he was quite enamoured with Mrs B's pineapple upside-down cake. Although I can't quite get over the strangeness of being free to invite young men to lunch at a religious house- why, even the Nurse's Home...

'They're quite strict, I believe?'

'Strict isn't really the word for it...'

'Well everyone is welcome at Nonnatus- after all, Jesus bid us to open out doors and our hearts to even the most scorned in society….lepers, prostitutes….even young men!'

Trixie couldn't help laughing at the mock-pious expression on Sister Winifred's face.

'I wish there was another young man or two we could invite with Tom- as much as he likes you all, it must be quite strange for him to be in such an aggressively female environment'

'Couldn't you ask Nurse Mount to bring along a young man as well? I'm sure she must have someone she can ask'

'Oh, I don't think Delia would be too happy with that, do you?'

The minute the words had left her mouth and she saw- or rather anticipated- the look of shock on Sister Winifred's open, guileless face, Trixie regretted them, to the point she would have happily bitten off her own tongue if it would have made a shred of difference.

What really broke her up later, what made the guilt that followed her all the days and nights afterwards all the more potent, was the fact that she probably could have saved the situation if she'd been a bit quicker, if she'd carried on with the conversation, say, and been able to feign some utter and believable shock at Sister Winifred 'misinterpreting' her.

'I…..see'

She couldn't laugh it off, she couldn't pretend. The fear of what she had done clutched her throat, constricted her chest- it was impossible to breathe let alone speak. Perhaps, she liked to think later, it wasn't just the fear that stopped her from trying to pass off her unthinking slip as a huge joke: perhaps it was because she knew, as no one else did,exactly how patsy felt about delia, and, in recognition of the honour of being trusted, respected their relationship too much to try to demean or belittle it, even in the name of saving it.

 **There was a pause.**

She didn't beg the Sister not to say anything, for fear of putting the idea of reporting it into her head. Perhaps, if she stayed very, very still and didn't say anything else, it could all be forgotten.

The warm basement kitchen, the bright oilcloth on the table and the breakfast things piled up, suddenly felt less welcoming: the iron-grey day beyond the steamed up window seemed to be pressing in, trapping her.

Sister Winifred passed her a cup, nudging it against Trixies hand when she didn't respond, and they finished the washing up in silence.


	2. Chapter 2

The storm Trixie had expected, dreaded, never came. It was much slower, much more insidious, like a fog gradually creeping in and leaving the once reassuring unfamiliar and dangerous.

She had spent two days telling herself that nothing was going to happen, nothing was wrong. Patsy was not absenting herself deliberately- she was merely busy, busy, in fact, as Trixie was herself. Sitting silently, pushing her food around her plate during the shared midday meal, not being drawn in by either Cynthia's- now _Sister Mary Cynthia's_ \- bright chatter (was it twins, or triplets that had been delivered?

Trixie found that she couldn't quite recall) or Nurse Crane's emphatic injections as to the insurmountable benefits of leaving the ham out of ham salad- was not a coincidence. Every midwife had the odd day when they were simply too tired to do more than eat and listen. Excusing herself early was merely more evidence of this fact.

"...the uncle had been sneaking the father whiskey in a teacup all afternoon- when I popped down to tell him he had a daughter, he tried to leap up, tripped over his own feet and ended up in a heap on the floor-'

'...it's just _unnecessary_ , in terms of nutrition….'

And Sister Winifred- she was not looking at Patsy any differently. Every midwife did not have time to speak individually to every other midwife before the end of lunch, Trixie told herself- goodness, there would be no time at all for eating if that were the case, to say nothing of replenishing depleted supplies before the afternoon rounds began. Nor was she avoiding Trixie.

Nevertheless, her soup seemed less appetising than usual, and she dabbled her spoon half heartedly in the soggy vegetables until the bowls were cleared, carefully avoiding Barbara's look of concern when she passed her slice of almond sponge directly on to Sister Monica Joan without comment.

'Ah! Generous of spirit, light of heart! The fates shall smile upon you, my dear!'

'Not hungry, Nurse Franklin?'

'Not really, Sister.'

Her smile was a little tight but perfectly believable.

Nothing was wrong, though. She simply wasn't _hungry._ That was all.


	3. Chapter 3

The day had been long and exhausting, and the night had been longer still, although the happiness of the new parents when she laid the tiny swaddled bundle in the mother's arms had been fortifying enough to get her moving through the icy streets and back to Nonnatus relatively quickly.

Better still, the flat had been clean and warm, the couple obviously comfortably off and already in possession of one child, a little girl, already: no need for worries about the baby succumbing to cold or damp or the clumsy care of the inexperienced to follow her home, as they sometimes did.

Trixie was not often drawn to the chapel- she had not been like Jenny, who after her initial misgivings about working in a convent, had ended up revelling in the spiritual closeness Nonnatus offered, to everyone's surprise, not least her own.

She was certainly nothing like Cynthia- _Sister Mary Cynthia-_ or Barbara, who would often choose going to the Sister's chapel to sooth her occasional bouts of homesickness over any other distraction.

But that evening, her room felt too quiet, even though she had mostly got used to having it to herself.

 _I am happy for Patsy. I am very happy for Patsy,_ she firmly told a bowl of hyacinths in the hall. _I do not miss her. Much._

 _I do not regret her leaving,_ she chided the door knob _. I am happy for her, and for Delia. I am very happy._

The chapel- shadowy now- was not her usual refuge, but it was somewhere she could go to sit that would not arouse suspicion. Or at least, if it did (it would, Trixie had to admit to herself that it would- she was not the sort to frequent the chapel, even in times of distress, and never had been), it was still marginally more likely to be empty at that time in the evening- there was much less chance of another midwife or one of the Sisters passing through the chapel after a delivery or on the way to one.

It wasn't empty: a habit, it's wearer from behind utterly indistinguishable, occupied the row of chairs furthest from the door. The room smelled faintly of incense, and more strongly of lemon wax polish.

Out of habit, Trixie started back out of the door, hoping to go unnoticed, but the Sister Winifred had turned before she could get away unseen.

'Trixie!'

'I'm sorry, I didn't realise anyone was-'

'No, please.' The nun's smile was a little tremulous, but it was there. 'Stay'

Trixie wished she had just gone to her bedroom, but having been seen, she didn't feel quite capable of leaving right away. She perched on one of the hard chairs that served instead of pews, and tried to keep her voice from shaking.

 _This is as good a time as any._

'I….was wanting to speak to you actually.'

'So was I!' Sister Winifred swiveled in her chair to face her, looking earnest. 'This is very lucky.'

'Yes…' Suddenly. Trixie couldn't bear to tiptoe around the subject a second longer- their forced politeness grated unbearably upon her already stretched nerves. 'Look. We both know what it's about.'

'Ah- yes…' The nun seemed taken aback by Trixie's directness.

 _How can she talk like this? She speaks as if the issue is that she let it slip- when it's really that it is happening at all…._

'I know what it looks like to you. I know how you see it-'

 _How I see it?_

'But really, it isn't anything awful, not really. They aren't hurting anyone, they aren't doing any harm. They're….'

 _Sinning?_

'...happy-'

'I….see…'

'So please, can you just forget what I said?,' Trixie finished in a rush.

The smile on Sister Winifred's face was so warm, so understanding that for a second, Trixie felt sure she'd made herself understood.

'Dear Trixie-' Sister Winifred took one of Trixies cold hands and covered it with her own. 'You must understand, you're asking the impossible.'

Trixie recoiled in shock, feeling sick. 'What do you mean?'

'I would be failing in my duty if I knew...this….was going on and didn't do anything.'

The nun's smooth, pale face was almost luminous in the half light.

'It isn't for us to judge other sinners, but we can't, in good faith, let them carry on in what we know to be wrong.'

'You'll ruin her.' Trixie's voice was rough with the effort of holding back tears.

'No one wishes any harm to Nurse Mount. She's been lovely to me since I started here. But I would be doing her an injustice if I turned a blind eye to what she's doing. She isn't to blamed for acting in ignorance, but she needs to be made aware of what it means for her.'

'No. It will destroy her, really.'

Sister Winifred felt a pang at the sincerity in Trixie's words, but she steeled herself.

'It's never easy to turn away from sin, Trixie.'

Trixie could almost feel the earnestness radiating off the nun, like heat from an oven, and found herself wanting to squirm away from the intensity of it all. An oven or a fire. That was just what Sister Winifred was, Trixie thought, a fire- a slightly nervous fire, burning with desire to do well, to do good, and with it, radiating her absolute innocence of the world outside of Chichester.

'Do you understand?'

She didn't want to nod so she didn't. Just turned on her heel and fled to her empty bedroom, then burrowed under the bed covers with tears on her cheeks, feeling every inch like a frightened child.


End file.
